There's No Pain Love Can't Heal
by hbrooks01
Summary: Derek is a bit of a creeper. As in he likes watching Stiles. But really, he's worried about the teen because he's been acting down after the crazy at the warehouse. Derek decides to read Stiles' journal and sets out to cheer him up.


Notes:

Not the best title ever, but whatever.

The inspiration for this was the song "Life Left To Go," by SafetySuit. This isn't beta'd like the last one, but hopefully grammar/spelling errors have be quashed and the story makes sense/is readable.

I have a tumblr if you wanna be my friend over there.

I'm super new too so I have no idea what's going with all the stuffs.

* * *

Derek watched Stiles write in his journal. He adjusted his position in the tree for optimal comfort. From the vantage he had, he couldn't make out the words on the page, but he knew Stiles was hurting—even if he couldn't smell the pain from this far away. He just… couldn't go comfort him. Not while he was awake at least.

After noting that this tree had the best view of Stiles' bedroom, Derek had a habit of watching late at night. He made a point of making the tree as comfortable as possible. Especially by knifing away that horrid knot that dug into his back if he sat more than twenty minutes—and really, twenty minutes was not that long a time. And if the branches needed a little support, well, they got it. The large tree wasn't on someone's property. Well, where anyone would notice or care at least.

Stiles hummed softly, almost under his breath, while he wrote. Derek closed his eyes, not recognizing the tune. Too bad the window was shut; if it was open he'd be able to hear better.

It started out this way: Stiles would write in his journal before going to bed, especially after he helped win the championship lacrosse game. Derek, not a complete stalker at all, hadn't noticed Stiles write much in his journal, just a few things here and there over the months. But now? It was a nightly thing. Derek had resisted looking through the journal, but decided that he needed to know what was going on with his friend. Well, Derek thought of him as a friend, whether or not Stiles did as well—he liked to think Stiles thought of him as a friend, what with the whole, don't-die-I'm-going-to-save-you routine they'd been through.

Derek watch a little longer, then snuggled back against the tree to let his eyes close for a few minutes. He was exhausted today, but hoped this little nap would invigorate him enough to keep watch through the rest of the night. He still had to drop by Scott's house across town and peek in on the others. It was his solemn duty.

He woke slowly, his legs aching and near numb from holding the position for so long. Derek looked up to the sky. The moon had set, and he figured he had a few more hours until dawn. Plenty of time to snoop around Stiles' bedroom and make his rounds before getting a little more rest for himself. He could live with only four or five hours of sleep a night, but after a few weeks, it was starting to take its toll on even his fast-healing body.

Derek hit the ground, and stretched before closing the distance to the Stilinski house. In moments he was perched on the roof, looking in at a sleeping Stiles. _My god did that kid ever stop moving? _Derek shook his head, and pulled up gently on the window. Stiles rarely locked it now that Scott used it as a second door. And, well, so did Derek. He let himself smile a bit.

The bedroom was hot compared to the relative cool of night outside, and Derek had to resist the impulse to shed his clothing. He shut the window softly behind him and moved to the desk opposite the bed. He riffled through papers, finally finding the journal buried under a stack. He pulled the slim book out from under them, noting its place in the mess before opening it. Derek moved to lean against the window frame. Starlight, while relatively dim, would be enough for him to see. He couldn't exactly risk a light. Derek started reading from the later entries.

_God. I don't even want to date these stupid things anymore. Good job Stiles! Ruining one thing after another. Can't even journal properly. Fine. Whatever. It's not that anyone really cares anymore is it big guy? Couldn't tell Scott the reason for the injuries. Couldn't tell your dad, Lydia, god, not even Derek. Derek would probably laugh to know that a geriatric man dying of cancer beat me up._

Derek stopped breathing for a moment. Is that what Stiles thought? That'd he'd not be hurt? Derek suppressed the wolf demanding he disembowel whatever might be left of Gerard Argent. He continued.

_Is that the worst of the failures, Stiles my man? Journal, don't give me sass! Yes. How could Scott come up with a winning plan and me? Yup, got beat up by some old fart who happens to like killing people. Smooth move Stilinski._

Derek skipped ahead, until he caught his name.

_I wonder if Derek watches me, like Scott says he watches him. Scott thinks it's a little creepy, especially after the whole "I'm not part of your pact creepy werewolf guy!" thing. Well, Derek certainly isn't creepy._

Derek agreed. He wasn't. He was protective is all.

_In fact, Derek is kinda hot. But I've mentioned that before, haven't I? I wonder if Derek is interested in me at all. I mean, I know I have nothing on his delicious body, but hey, I'm a catch. I've got body. I've got some muscle. I'm cute. Oh, who are you kidding Stiles, Danny never answered your question and Lydia and 99% of all the girls at school don't know you exist. Sigh. Alright Stilinski. Time for bed._

Derek huffed lightly. Stiles was cute, hands down. Derek's opinion on the matter may be biased, but hell, he was right. He moved to the most recent entry. The ink was still fresh, though not wet.

_I don't know if I can handle the pressure of it all anymore. My dad not knowing, having to lie to him constantly. The burning in my chest every time I think of Derek. How sometimes I imagine him here in my bedroom, though he hasn't been over in, what, months? God. How fucking stupid can I be? Go from pining from the cold bitch Lydia to pining over an even colder sourwolf almost-creeper (seriously use doors, Derek, come on, even Peter uses doors and he's like 100x creepier). Can't even tell your best friend you're in love with his stupid non-alpha power struggle partner in supernatural craziness. It's like I have no friends, like I have to put on this brave front every fucking time I leave my room and pretend to be someone I'm not. Someone happy, someone with friends, when, really, I've never been more alone._

_I've thought about ending it. I have. How sweet the release would be, the sweet, sweet nothing that will come after. No pain, no more hurting others by lying or simply by existing. No one would miss me. Scott has Allison—well, if not now he will. He doesn't need my bring him down any more. Derek certainly doesn't care. Haven't heard from him since Jackson turned. No pressing emergencies, no need for annoying-in-the-way-ADD-Stiles. I might do it. I might. But not now. My dad still needs me. But… I don't know how long I can hold on for anymore. _

Derek set the journal down, rage and frustration burning under his skin. How could Stiles think these things? He tamped down hard on the rising bile and quickly stuffed the journal near where he found it. He squatted down to watch Stiles. A few droplets of liquid clung to his thick, beautiful lashes and two wet spots almost merged on his pillow. Again. Derek didn't know what to do. He had to do something. Stiles thought he hated him or didn't care? Couldn't be further from the truth. He had to reach out, but how?

Derek stood, and reached down to the furrow on Stiles' forehead, letting his thumb trace the worry lines. He moved his hand down to Stiles' shoulder and laid his warm fingers lightly on the heated skin, much like he'd done the past few nights. Tonight, he'd take away some of Stiles' pain. It was the least he could do—seeing as Stiles thought he'd inflicted it on him.

He closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing and then—Derek was hit with a massive ton of feelings, churning in the base of his gut. Resisting the urge to clamp down on Stiles with his hand and cry out in sheer horror. Derek let go and jumped out the window and ran to the trees, shaking. When he deemed himself far enough away he let the feelings rush through him—buildup of the pain would only make it worse.

He sobbed, his back against a tree, tears cooling on his cheeks as he experienced the crushing depression Stiles carried. Derek could hardly breath, could barely think through the guilt and terror that somehow, someway all the problems in the world were his to begin with and he wrenched another sob from his gut, letting pain focus his mind: these were not his emotions. But he lived them just that same, and knowing didn't help.

After a good half hour crying in the forest, Derek finally had the strength to stand up and wipe his eyes. He took a deep, shuddering breath and dusted the leaves from his jeans. He felt better, still a weight sat on his chest, but he brushed the feelings aside for the moment. His own pain could wait until he got to his own bed.

He finished making the rounds he needed too and ended up at home a hour before sunrise. He was too tired to care if he cried himself to sleep for the fifth time this week. Taking on Stiles' emotions only made him more aware of his own, and these? These tears were for Stiles. _I'm sorry._

* * *

Derek woke up groggy and exhausted. Cold air nipped at his foot flung out of his bed. The rest of his body felt on fire so he tossed the down comforter off and the air cooled his sweat-slicked skin. A few more minutes of sleep couldn't hurt could they? Derek rolled over and jammed a pillow over his head to block out the sunlight.

He woke again feeling more rested than he had all month. He blinked and rubbed the eye goo from his face and checked his phone. Nothing. Big surprise there. Sunday morning, with not much to do but his usual routine. He got up and showered before devouring four eggs and some toast.

He grabbed his phone, and before he could change his mind, he sent Stiles a quick text. He walked part of the perimeter of the Hale territory, just to see if anything was amiss, but he didn't find anything. His phone buzzed.

-is there an emergency?

-no.

Derek looked around, unsure of what to do when his phone buzzed again.

-um. then what's up?

-just checking in

-well, thanks. im okay, i guess.

-busy today?

-um, no? just have a bit of studying but if you want talk…

-gonna do some perimeter stuff. join?

-sure. meet you at the house? gotta see my dad off real quick.

-k

-see you soon.

Derek breathed in relief. Stiles seemed better today. Could be the burden he took upon himself last night that helped, but he hoped for more than just a bit of werewolf magic was behind it. He really did enjoy Stiles. Just, had a hard time showing it. If he lost someone again after his family, after Laura… But Stiles was hurting and Derek couldn't let that stand, even if it meant dealing with… He frowned. Feelings.

Derek jogged back into the reserve and waited.

He heard the Jeep long before he saw it. He sat on the porch, like he had no cares in the world and ignore the flip in his heart. Seeing Stiles shouldn't do that to him, but this was the most non-one-sided-interaction they'd had in the last couple weeks, and for that, Derek was happy.

Stiles got out of Jeep, and walked to Derek.

"Hey," he said, scratching at his neck.

Derek stood up and nodded toward the other side of the perimeter. He didn't trust his words to not betray him at the moment.

"Well," Stiles began. "Not exactly what I had in mind when you said you wanted to talk."

Derek looked at Stiles, his lip curling.

"Oh come on Derek! A hello isn't going to kill you."

Derek resisted chuckling. "It might."

Stiles laughed. "Alright, try it with me. 'Hey, Stiles!'"

"Hey, Stiles." He shook his head. Derek couldn't tell him how adorable it was to do these things. One of the reasons he liked to be quiet.

"See? You're not dead. All alive to wander the Great Hale Territory. Which we are doing right?"

"Yeah. Probably nothing going on. I like to walk or run it to make sure."

Stiles kicked at a rock as the moved through the forest. "You do it all alone, huh?"

Derek shrugged. "I guess I'm used to it, now. Isaac helps, occasionally. Ever since Erica and Boyd left… he's been tired as well."

"I know how it feels. To be alone."

Derek didn't say anything, but squeezed Stiles' shoulder. They passed in the relative quiet of the forest morning, Derek sniffing as he walked, trying to identify if anything had come in to the territory, but it wasn't necessary. He always knew the comings and goings of his territory. A bit of pack magic, he guessed.

He wanted to surprise Stiles, so he spoke up. "You doing okay, Stiles?"

"Huh?" Stiles jerked his head up. "Yeah, I guess. I mean… it's really nothing."

Derek gave him a look.

"Fine! Damn your stupid werewolf senses. It's been hard, okay? Since the whole Jackson thing. Scott's been so busy with studying, really, I should be happy he's trying to pass his classes, and my dad I can't talk to. I've been dying to just talk."

"So talk." Derek stepped over a creek. "I'll listen."

"Really? You will? Okay, so I've been kinda down lately, if you couldn't tell, which I'm guessing you can, keen smell etc. What does it smell like? Can I ask?"

"You already did."

"Oh. Right." Stiles paused a moment, then charged forward. "Well? Not that it is super important or anything, but, you know, curious minds want to know."

"It smells like tears." Derek looked around, keeping his eyes out, but focused his other senses on Stiles.

"Oh." Stiles rubbed his arm. "I guess that makes sense and all. So… I feel kinda awkward talking to you, you know. All broody and 'we're gonna get attacked' over there."

"Why?" Derek pulled up short and crossed his arms, looking into Stiles' honey eyes.

"And there you go pulling out the lemons."

Derek softened his expression. "I'm worried about you." He started walking again, moving closer to the edge of the invisible boundary.

"Worried? Why? I haven't done anything stupid. Gerard is missing, and I'm not about to look for that geriatric whack job. I'm caught up with all my homework, finals are just about over, no more kanima, nor other craziness."

Derek glanced over at his companion. "Stiles."

"And it's not like I'm being haunted by the stress of the near-failures."

Derek sighed. "They don't seem failures to me."

"What? Jackson almost becoming some nightmarish creature? Yeah, Peter sent me the stupid animation. My god what was that thing? And Gerard almost killing you and my best friend, when I could do nothing about it. Not seeing Allison become some demented killer lady and stopping her? Let's not forget about Matt, who almost killed us!"

"Stiles—"

"Not done yet big guy. I almost screwed up Scott and Allison during the whole 'dating' but 'not dating' phase they had. Hurt Lydia bad, that she even looks at me is a surprise, when I went to get the bestiary before nearly drowning, as you will recall, while she was sitting there waiting for someone to talk to. Destroyed my phone and let's not forget making my dad lose his job."

"Is that enough?"

"No." Stiles crossed his arms. "It's not."

Derek stopped walking and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, it's not all your fault."

Stiles didn't look up, just stared at the leaves under his feet.

"Fine," Derek said. "It is all your fault."

Stiles' head whipped up. "What?"

"You can't beat yourself up for what happened."

"You're one to talk."

Derek glared at him. "What?"

Stiles smirked. "Well, I know who set the fire. That part was easy. Figuring out why was easy. Figuring out how… well, that was hard. I've got two theories: one, Kate was a cunning bitch and a creepy stalker; two, Kate had inside help; or three, Kate's some crazy fucked up magician lady and yeah it's might least favorite. Then I got to thinking… I think someone helped her—wittingly or not. And that person was you, Derek. Not saying you meant to, but you know it. If I were a werewolf, I'd probably smell guilt a mile away."

"You have no right—" Derek closed his eyes and took a breath, facing away from Stiles. This was no time to let the past hurt him, no matter how infuriatingly correct Stiles was.

"Hey." Stiles moved closer to him. "Hey, I'm sorry. Okay?"

Derek turned to him. "Here I am trying to cheer you up, and then you go and make me feel like shit. Wound me more Stiles."

"What?"

Derek could smell his confusion. "Look. Forget about it." He started walking again. _Great idea, dumbass. Got anything else?_

Stiles ran to catch up. "Hey, I said I was sorry."

"And I said to forget about it."

They walked in silence for a bit. Confusion rolled off in waves, then resignation. Derek sighed. Again. This wasn't going well. Chalk it up to another Derek Hale failure. Though he was sure Stiles thought the same thing.

"I guess I'm doing a shitty job of making you feel better." Derek kept walking. The forest calmed his nerves.

"Why would you try to cheer me up?" Stiles crossed his arms, and Derek realized he was probably a bit chilled.

"Because you needed it."

"Have you been, have you been watching me?" Stiles sounded like he didn't believe it.

Derek huffed. "Of course. I keep an eye on everyone. Call it the guilt complex if you want."

"I didn't—I wasn't aware you cared."

Derek stopped again, and leaned against a tree to survey Stiles. "Of course I care."

"Well, there was the whole hitting my head against a steering wheel, and the whole pushing me up against walls." Stiles kicked at the leaves, not looking at him.

"You're mouthy and totally deserved it both times."

"Whatever."

Derek wanted to pull Stiles close. Wanted more than anything to take away his pain. But he couldn't, not while he was awake.

"So," Stiles said. "We gonna finish our little territory walk?"

Derek shook his head. "We covered what we needed to."

"Oh."

"C'mon." Derek strode back to the house. He could smell the lingering ash from anywhere in Beacon Hills. "You hungry?"

"Yeah."

"Let's grab something, okay?"

"Sure?"

Derek turned back to look at Stiles. "I'm not going to eat you, Stiles." He muttered the rest under his breath. "At least, not yet."

Soon, they were back at the burnt shell of the old Hale house. Derek turned to Stiles. He'd calmed down some, Derek could smell.

"You need a ride, huh."

Derek nodded. "Unless you want me to run into town as a wolf."

Stiles lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh my god! I have to see this. Would you really do that? That would be way awesome! Oh. That was a joke? Ha ha, Derek, don't quit your day job."

Derek glared at Stiles.

"Oh, that's right, you don't have a day job. Get in grumpy." Stiles jumped in the Jeep and sighed in contentment.

"You know, you should lock up your car."

Stile arched an eyebrow. "Really? No one is ever out here."

"Just invasive teens with deathwishes," Derek said straight-faced. "And a propensity to poke their noses in others' business."

"Another funny? Wow, I'll definitely have to mark today in the calendar. And propensity, big word Derek."

It was a good thing Derek actually enjoyed and liked Stiles. That remark alone should have earned a growl or a thwack, but instead Derek smirked.

"I'm not some hermit that lives in ruined trains in warehouse or in old burned-out houses."

Stiles looked at Derek incredulously. "Really now? Tell me more. Or maybe you'd like to buy that food you promised me."

"I never said I'd buy it."

Stiles arms flailed to the front of the Jeep. "Gotta keep her up and running with plenty of gas. Gas used to drive werewolves, both grumpy and not, around Beacon Hills at all hours of the day and night, many different times a week. If you've forgotten."

Derek curled his lips. "Put the car in gear, and let's go."

"Where are we going?" Stiles whined. "Come on! Let me in on a big bad werewolf secret."

Derek rolled his eyes. "You'll figure it out soon enough. As in, when we pull up."

Stiles sighed. "Fine, fine. Whatever." He shifted the car to reverse and turned around, heading back down the driveway to the main road into town. Stiles said little the rest of the way to the restaurant. Derek gave him curt directions. Stiles looked relaxed, and a little more at ease than he had earlier on their walk. Derek felt good: he was making a difference. Well, hopefully. Stiles deserved a break, and if a break meant that Derek could take him to his favorite Mexican restaurant, then….

"Left, at the median break," Derek instructed.

"Roger that, navigator."

Derek rolled his eyes. At least Stiles didn't reek of despair and sadness like he had last night. He smiled facing into his window.

"Alright," Derek said. "Over there," he waved toward the Mexican place.

"Oh my god! Juan Pepé's?" He parked and scrambled out of the Jeep.

Derek stepped out and after he shut the car door, he was tackled by a heap of Stiles and slammed his back into the Jeep door. He grunted.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" Stiles murmured. "You're the best Derek. No matter what Scott says."

Derek breathed in Stiles lightly, and gave him an awkward hug back, pinned as he was.

"If you wanna eat, Stiles, you'll have to let me go."

"Oh right." Stiles coughed awkwardly after releasing Derek. "Um, yeah. Well, you look like you can use a hug half the time anyway, so you're welcome."

"Come on, Stiles. Let's eat."

* * *

Derek waited in his tree again, watching Stiles through his window. The day had gone well, but he felt like he was intruding after lunch—even though he knew Stiles was desperate for the company, Derek couldn't resist much longer and had to back out for fear he'd do something stupid. Like kiss Stiles. Not that it was a stupid idea, but with Stiles so down and depressed, it could do more harm than good. He'd doubt Derek's interest, and that was all Derek's doing.

Goddamn that Argent bitch.

Derek watched until Stiles went to sleep and he heard the heartbeat become slow and steady and he was sure the younger man wouldn't wake up if he snuck in. He wanted to read the new entry, see if he was mentioned at all.

He crept down, and jumped up to the roof. He listened to the heartbeat for a few moments, knowing Stiles still slept. He snuck in, and found the journal on top of papers, something Stiles hadn't done before. He flipped to the last entry.

_So, I don't know how Derek knew about all the depression stuff, but he seemed to. I mean, he did say that I smelled liked tears. How do tears even smell? Maybe like salt or something. But, it was nice to get out of the house for a bit. And lunch was so good, but it hurt so much, having to sit there with Derek and not say anything to him. Come on Stiles, you can't make the same mistakes you made before. Even Scott knows I should say something. He told me I'd eventually have to talk to Lydia and tell her how I feel—though truth be told, I've been meaning Derek for the last few months._

_I know he smelled the frustration and the whole emotions thing. But he didn't say anything, and still tried to cheer me up. I mean, I know he was trying, but does he know that he's part of the problem? How can he sit there and not know how much I want him? Damn it Scott, don't even get started being in my head. He tried, and I felt better than I have in a few weeks. I suppose I should be thankful for that. Ugh. Stiles, get it together. Man up, tell Derek how you feel. What's the worst he could say? No? Then you can quit your stupid pining and move on. But it would crush me. God I feel so alone._

Derek gently ran his finger over the letters, feeling the depressions where the pen had pressed into the paper, the stronger verses weaker points, like little ditches that told him how Stiles felt more than the words themselves. He wanted to do something, leave some note, but would that be appropriate?

He set the journal down, and watched Stiles sleep for a few minutes before he left to check on Scott and Isaac. If they knew he was watching, they never said anything.

Once back in his bed, he drifted off quickly.

In the morning, he hurriedly dressed and took off to Beacon Hills High School. He wanted to observe Scott and Isaac, see how Jackson was faring with Lydia, and of course see how Stiles dealt with the depression at school. Derek needed answers only watching could help—he refused to call it lurking.

Derek tried his best to keep a low profile, though Scott was the first to notice him.

"Dude," Scott said, pulling him aside. "What are you doing here? We have more finals this week."

"I know."

"Then what are you doing here? You can't be here."

"Scott, I'm aware of that. If you'd let me go, I'd blend in much better."

"Derek, seriously." Scott let him go, stepping back.

"I'm watching you guys today. See how you interact."

"Dude, that's creepy. You watch us sleep too, don't think I don't know that."

Derek looked away from Scott, scanning the hallways. "It's my responsibility to watch out for you all. I'm doing what I need to do."

"I can take care of myself," Scott said, drawing himself up. "If you get caught here, I'm not saving you."

"Fair enough. Good luck on your finals." Derek watched Scott's reaction and words disappear from his open mouth. He nodded and trotted off to class.

Derek concentrated on the heartbeats he knew best, and checked on Stiles. He was sitting in class, reading a test, his heart calm and steady. Satisfied, Derek checked next on Isaac—who happened to be having a difficult time with the test, judging by the frustrated strength of his heart. He'd have to talk to Isaac about that. He looked in on Scott and Jackson next. Scott seemed calm, but had a confused look on his face, where Jackson looked calm, but was not.

Derek smiled. He'd turned Jackson, and that made him somewhat responsible, but he could delight in the jacked heart rate, couldn't he?

Over the course of the day, he kept tabs on all his pups and made sure to catalogue the entirety of Stiles' long, boring day. Each test Stiles took, he calmed and seemed fine. Each time the bell rang, Derek could hear his heartbeat rise, smell the depression rolling in. He had to do something more than just cheer Stiles up. Before the last bell rang, Derek decided to leave Stiles a note on his Jeep. Not the classiest move, but it would do the trick.

He placed the note under the windshield wiper and moved to a spot he could watch. As people filed out, he spotted Stiles talking to Scott.

"—saying that Derek was here? Why?" Stiles scratched the back of his head and readjusted his backpack.

"I don't know. Said he want to keep tabs on us or something."

_Not true, Scott. I'm looking out for you all._

"Really? Seems a bit lurky if you ask me. Dude can be a bit of a creeper appearing places with no warning. But much less creepy then Peter."

Derek rolled his eyes, watching the pair progress across the parking lot.

"So, Stiles, think you could swing me by home?"

"Yeah, no problem. Hey, there's a note on my car." Stiles plucked it and read it. Shit, Derek hadn't thought that Scott would be there to see it. He should have just texted Stiles, but leaving the note was a bit more… romantic. Not that he wrote anything romantic, just that Stiles might keep it or something.

"What does it say?" Scott maneuvered to read over Stiles' shoulder, though he wasn't successful.

"'Need to talk? -Derek.' That's it." Stiles flipped the sheet over. "Nothing on the back."

"That just proves he's creepy. Leaving on note on your car?"

"Everyone knows I drive this. Maybe he forgot his cell phone?" Stiles shrugged.

"I don't believe it. Whatever. I have to get some studying done for tomorrow. And work. You'd think Deaton would give me more time off, but we're busy at the clinic."

Stiles hopped up to the driver's seat and shut the door. Derek didn't need to hear anymore. He took off to his car parked well away from the school and drove. It might be some time before Stiles texted him back.

Derek slouched in his seat, just outside the warehouse. Staring at his phone, willing Stiles to text him. Nothing came through, so Derek decided to rest. He closed his eye, resting his head against the window of his car.

He woke up to a buzzing in his hand some twenty minutes later.

-hey. yeah, i kinda do need to talk. if you're up for it. don't wanna push you into being nice to me.

-ok. you're not pushing me. meet?

-pick me up?

-k. be there in a few.

-okay.

Derek rubbed his eyes and put the Camaro in gear and took off. In less than ten minutes he was outside the Stilinski home. He texted Stiles as much, and waited. He heard two hearts inside the house, one lying to the other. Why would Stiles need to lie to his dad about where he was going?

Then Stiles was outside, hurrying to the car. Derek took a deep breath and willed his heart to slow down. Two times in two days….

"Hey."

"Hey, Derek." Stiles buckled himself in. "Where are we going?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me." Derek raised his eyebrow. "Wherever is fine."

"Disneyland!"

Derek glared. "Really, Stiles?"

Stiles crossed his arms and sighed. "You're no fun."

"So I've heard. You're dad is going to find out who you are with if you don't tell me soon enough."

"Oh my god! No privacy with damn werewolves." Stiles glared at Derek. He thought it was more cute than threatening. "Fine, just somewhere private."

Derek smiled. "And no I didn't hear what you said. Just that you lied."

"Well, sometimes it's easier to lie to my dad then tell him the truth." Stiles looked out the window. "There's a park on the other side of town. Maybe we could go there?"

"Sure. Just tell me how to get there."

"Roger that."

Derek shook his head.

They kept silent most of the way over to the park. Derek noticed Stiles calm down even more than when he was testing that morning. Maybe it wasn't that he was uncomfortable during their conversations, just that afterward he felt a terrible loss. Derek could relate.

Pulling up to the park, Derek looked around. It certainly didn't fit the neighborhood. The park was huge and the houses were spread out.

"Doesn't fit, does it?" Stiles said. "Maybe it's like us. We don't fit in."

Derek nodded. He wasn't about to disagree with the truth.

"Come on." Stiles got out of the car, and pulled his hoodie tight, though the sun was still up and it wasn't that cold out.

Derek locked the car behind him, then tucked his hands inside his leather jacket. Stiles gave him a quick look then walked into the park. Derek waited a moment before following.

Stiles moved past the picnic benches, past the swing sets, monkey bars, and other play equipment and toward a large rock near the back of the park, close to the fence that marked the edge—and presumably kept children from running off into the forest. Stiles sat on the far side, facing the trees and patted the ground next to him. Derek folded down. No one would be able to see them sitting here if they walked into the park.

Stiles fidgeting with the drawstring on his hoodie, and Derek knew, without werewolf senses, that he was nervous. And Derek may regret this.

"Why?" Stiles asked, sounding a little choked. "Why are you being nice to me?"

Derek closed his eyes, trying to think of something appropriate to say. He listened to the sound of fingers scraping the cotton drawstring.

"Do I have to have a reason?"

"Um. Typically people don't do nice things without reasons. And you've be particularly nice the last two days. It's not like you, Derek."

Derek looked at Stiles. "You don't know all there is to know of me." He hoped that didn't sound too harsh.

"I… I know. But it just seems so out of the blue."

"I've noticed you haven't been happy since the warehouse thing with Gerard. Well, less happy than normal." Derek picked at his fingernails before stopping and watching the leaves dance in the light breeze.

A flood of pain and sadness burst from Stiles. Derek resisted the urge to wrap his arms around him. He looked at Stiles, watched as tears welled in his eyes and dripped down his face.

"Do you know how much it hurts to have you be nice to me, Derek?"

"I can sense it."

"Then why do you do it?" Stiles wiped his face and turned away. "Why?"

"I don't like seeing you hurt, Stiles. If I leave you alone, you're hurt. If I'm here, you're hurt. I'd rather be here with you hurt, and share you pain than let you be hurting alone. I know how that is."

Stiles sniffled and nodded.

"If you want, I can take away the pain."

"Why?"

"I've dealt with a lot of it. I want to help, damnit Stiles! And you won't let me."

Stiles said nothing. Derek looked at him for a moment before turning back to watching the trees beyond the fence. _Damn. Can't say anything to help, can you? Words were never your strong suit._

"You don't have to help."

"I want to."

Stiles laughed. "We don't always get what we want."

"I know."

Stiles shook his head, and Derek watched as he wiped his eyes on his sleeves. He then pushed them past the elbow and extended his left arm to Derek.

"See how it feels." Stiles didn't look at him.

Derek took the offered arm gently. Stiles' skin was warm and soft, the hairs of his arms delicate and disturbed from the fabric. Derek swiped with his thumb, and felt Stiles shiver. He took a deep breath, prepared for the emotional brick that would slam him in the stomach.

Derek cried out this time, taking in as much of the pain as he possible could without driving himself insane. He sobbed against the rock, letting go of Stiles arm, and curling against the stone. He drew his legs up and avoided looking at Stiles. _How had he managed to build the pain up to this again?_

"Derek?" Stiles asked.

Derek said nothing, but raised his head from his knees. He let the feeling twist in his gut. His throat was constricted and he could hardly breathe. Tears streamed down his face. Stiles stood up, unsure of what to do. With Stiles emotions churning alongside his own, Derek couldn't control himself.

"Please," Derek begged. "Don't go. Don't leave me."

Stiles turned around, shock evident on his face. "What?"

"Stay. Please?"

Stiles nodded once, the sat down and rested his forehead on Derek's shoulder. Derek relaxed, still shaking from the intense pain. He almost felt like through up. He took several shuddering breaths before he calmed down enough.

"Why did you do that?" Stiles whispered. "Take my pain?"

Derek raised his hand to Stiles' cheek. "If there was something I could do to show you I cared, I'd do it."

Stiles shut his eyes and leaned against Derek. "There's something I have to tell you."

Derek tensed, hoping this was the revelation he'd read in the journal. "Go ahead."

"I like you, Derek. A lot. Like like, as in more than friends."

"I know. I like you too, Stiles."

Stiles looked up. His eyes were reddened from the crying but he looked surprised. And disbelieving. Derek couldn't say much more.

"Like like?"

Derek nodded. "Like like."

Stiles relaxed and nuzzled closer. "Are you serious?"

Derek opened his legs and pulled Stiles close, twisting them both so his back was to the rock again. "Yes."

"Why?"

"This isn't logic class, Stiles. Accept it. Feel my heartbeat."

"It's strong and steady."

"Exactly." Derek ran his hands through Stiles' short hair. "Are you okay?"

"I… I think so. I'll be okay." Stiles tried to disengage.

"Mm, you're not going yet," Derek said, pulling him closer.

Stiles relaxed a moment. "This isn't very comfortable, is it?"

Derek shook his head. "Not really."

Stiles squirmed free, then sat next to Derek, his back to the rock as well. He leaned his head against Derek's shoulder. Derek wrapped his arm around Stiles and rested his head against Stiles'.

"Thank you for telling me, Stiles."

"Hmm?"

"I didn't want to make the first move, because you were hurting."

"Oh."

Derek pulled Stiles a little closer. "I wanted to make sure you wanted it too."

Stiles wrapped his arm around Derek's waist. "But you're so hot."

"And you aren't?"

Stiles shook a little, like he was laughing. "Nope."

Derek growled. "If I say you are, you are."

Stiles laughed. "Okay, big guy. Alpha noted, obeying. I'm hot."

"Better." Derek nuzzled Stiles' hair. "Much better. Just don't lie next time."

Stiles hit him with his free hand.

They sat a few moments, Derek inhaling Stiles and relaxing in the peaceful moment. Stiles was calm, his hurt practically erased and Derek admitted feelings. Things were going good.

"Can we… um… make out?" Stiles said to Derek's neck. "Just to make sure we like each other?"

Derek snorted. "Sure."

They untangled and Stiles looked at him, like he might never see him again. Derek cupped Stiles' jaw and leaned over to kiss him, though the angle was awkward—to say the least.

Stiles' lips were rough, rougher than Derek imagined. His own were soft as he hated the feeling of his lips being chapped. Stiles moaned. Derek mouthed at Stiles lips, careful not to bite or go further than Stiles wanted.

He drew back after a few minutes and opened his eyes.

"Still like me?" Derek asked.

Stile bit his lip and nodded. He looked at the ground between them, like he expected the worst.

"Good. Still like you." Derek moved to sit on the rock, his feet touching the bare dirt. Stiles was up and standing in a moment. Derek grabbed his shirt and pulled him in and down, setting Stiles on his lap.

They were kissing again, Derek letting his lips absorb Stiles. At the first flick of tongue, Derek let himself go in the moment, trying to taste as much of Stiles as he could, letting their tongues meet. Derek pulled away and nibbled along the skin of Stiles' throat to his neck and shoulder. He tugged the shirts back enough that if he left a mark, it could be covered. He took in as much shoulder skin as he could and worked it with his teeth gently and sucked, listening to Stiles groan in pleasure.

Stiles' hands were traveling up and down his chest, lifting the fabric of his shirt. Derek didn't care. His own hands were keeping Stiles steady and rooted to the spot. A loud, wet pop and Derek examined his handiwork. A large hickey stood purpled in the shadowy light, and he smiled.

"Like leaving marks, eh?" Stiles tugged at Derek's leather jacket.

Derek paid him no mind. "Won't work. Healing." Derek pulled Stiles in again, and kissed him lightly a few times before letting go.

"No more?" Stiles looked hurt, but Derek knew he was pleased.

"Of course more. But you have studying to do."

Stiles pouted. "But that was awesome."

Derek grinned. "Yes it was. And you have proof that it happened." He fingered the bruise, tracing circles around it. "So don't feel like it didn't."

"Does this mean we can date?"

Derek shrugged his shoulders. "I'd like it."

Stiles beamed. "I'm dating a werewolf!"

Derek rolled his eyes.

"And a hot one."

Derek pushed him off then stood up. "Say it too much louder and I'll leave you here."

"You wouldn't!"

Derek smiled letting his fangs show.

"Fine, fine."

Stiles reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it. Derek squeezed back. They walked back to the car as the sun set. The entire drive back to Stiles' house they held hands and before Stiles could go inside, Derek gave him another kiss. And another, and another, before Stiles pulled away and looked embarrassed, like his dad could have seen him.

Derek smiled, and watched him disappear in the house. He smiled the rest of the day, as he bought groceries, as he filled his gas tank, as he paid bills. He smiled and it would not leave his face.


End file.
